


Where the Love Light Gleams

by i_am_therefore_i_fight



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Family, Gen, Holidays, Home, holiday festival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 20:13:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5599330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_am_therefore_i_fight/pseuds/i_am_therefore_i_fight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If this is death for Sith lords who complete eleventh-hour conversions to the light side, thinks Vader, it’s a wonder that more don’t do it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where the Love Light Gleams

Everything is warm and dark, and he feels lighter than air, unburdened by the weight of his great suit, and of his decades of hatred.

If this is death for Sith lords who complete eleventh-hour conversions to the light side, thinks Vader, it’s a wonder that more don’t do it.

He drags in a deep breath - of his own accord, for the first time in too many years - and his stomach swoops like he has just jumped from an open bay door and is dropping like a stone to the ground far below. A wave of familiarity and nostalgia like nausea crashes over him, freezing all of his faculties momentarily.

He turns his face slightly in the warmth and the dark, burying his nose into what he is unable for several moments to identify as bedding, and draws in another slow, deep breath. After that, there is no doubt.

The blankets smell like Padme.

\------

He creeps out into a hallway, a scene utterly surreal in its pure domesticity, and hears soft noises drifting up the stairs at the end of the corridor - voices, laughter, the clinking of glasses.

He takes the stairs, and runs into Ahsoka Tano. Physically runs into her, as she takes three steps in a single bound without looking where she's going.

“Master!” exclaims his old Padawan, a grin dimpling her cheeks as though she has not more or less barreled him over in her haste. “I was just coming to get you. Padme says we can’t start opening the gifts until - ”

He catches her by the shoulders, staring deep into her eyes, and whispers, “...Ahsoka?”

She hesitates, her smile dimming. “Master? You’re alright, right? Padme just said to let you sleep, she didn’t say you weren’t feeling well…”

“No, I’m…” He swallows. “Is Padme down there?”

“Everyone is,” she says, frowning a little now. “We’re waiting for you.”

“I’m coming.” He releases her. “I’m… Everything’s fine. Let’s go down.”

They descend the stairs together, and then Ahsoka frolics ahead to sweep a small girl-child from Padme’s lap, twirling around and making clucking noises to amuse the little one. Padme, relieved of her burden, brushes out her skirts, smiles at Obi-Wan to excuse herself from their conversation, and rises regally, turning to give her husband a cordial greeting.

“Anakin,” she says, her smile melting away almost at once as her brow takes on wrinkles. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he replies, “at all, anywhere, in the whole galaxy.” Sweeping her to him, he kisses her long, slow, and deep.

Obi-Wan clears his throat, looking down at the toddler in his lap as the tips of his ears begin to grow warm and red. “Well, Luke,” he addresses the child, “shall we go and check on the rolls?”

Anakin disconnects from Padme with a small pop, holding the small of her back in his larger palm to support her knees, which have gone weak. “Just a second, Obi-Wan. I’ll come with you.”

“Right. In case we need a third opinion about whether the rolls are golden-brown or still only honey-colored.”

Anakin follows his Master into the kitchen, meaning to ask what is the meaning of all of this, of the beauty here, the light, the utter lack of cosmic comeuppance - \- but the little boy locks eyes with him over Obi-Wan’s shoulder and a grin splits that small face as tiny grasping hands lift toward him.

“Dada!” crows the little boy.

Anakin’s breath stops for a moment, and his arms move of their own accord to take the child from his Master, holding that warm little body close to his chest as he blinks down into an adoring face.

The name Luke is frozen in the center of a lump in his throat and he swallows around it, blinking at the sting in his eyes when tiny fingers grasp at his jaw, his chin. Luke’s hand passes in front of his mouth and he steals the opportunity to place a tiny kiss on the palm.

“Is everything alright, Anakin?” Obi-Wan asks from his place reclined against the counter, arms crossed over his chest, brow drawn heavy over his eyes. “You seem… out of sorts.”

Anakin opens his mouth, shakes his head, shakes his head again, then shrugs. “Yes.” He clears the gravel from his throat, and sounds a little more even when he says, “Everything is. Everything’s… perfect.”

A squeal sounds from the other room, following by the patter of tiny feet, and then small hands clutching at Anakin’s trousers. “Dada!” shrieks little Leia, howling with mirthful fear as Ahsoka pounces through the doorway and snatches her up, tickling her mercilessly.

The breathless Togruta turns to Anakin, eyes crinkled with laughter - and then stops. “Master! What’s wrong?”

He doesn’t say anything, just reaches out to reel her in and crush her in a hug, Leia protesting noisily between them. The tears on his cheeks drip from his jaw onto the top of her head, but instead of lifting an arm to wipe them away, he holds onto Ahsoka more fiercely.

Padme’s cool hand on the crook of Obi-Wan’s elbow causes him to shift, making room for her to lean against the counter beside him.

“Is he alright?” she whispers, her eyes fixed on her husband as his shoulders shake silently, Ahsoka worming her free arm around his waist to embrace him as best she can.

The softening of Obi-Wan’s face is intentional, a step-by-step mellowing from concern back into its customary tranquility before he looks down at the ex-Queen.

“I have no doubt,” he says, placing an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close to his side, where she rests her head on the inside of his shoulder, “that whatever burdens his heart, we are more than equipped to deal with it.”


End file.
